


All Around I See

by bananasandroses (achuislemochroi)



Series: Whofic [31]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 4X13 (Journey's End), Angst, F/M, Pete's World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-01
Updated: 2009-10-01
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:30:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1595048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achuislemochroi/pseuds/bananasandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She sees him; but she doesn't see <i>him</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Around I See

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Beta-read by the fabulous [](http://glory-jean.livejournal.com/profile)[**glory_jean**](http://glory-jean.livejournal.com/), this is part of an experiment to get two totally different pieces from the same source text (in this case, the last conversation between the Doctor and Joan Redfern).  The first piece is [](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1594862)_Change & Decay_.

“He was braver than you, in the end,” she says, quietly, to the room at large.  He’s not said a word or moved to stand closer to her, but he thinks she knows he’s here all the same.  “Even if it seemed that he was just running away.  You chose, in a way, to ask whether I wanted to spend the rest of my life together with you.  He chose to give me up because he thought that would be a way to keep me safe and happy.  That’s what he wanted, even if it meant – and I sometimes think, even now, that it does – that _he_ had no happiness at all.”

There’s silence for a while after that, an uncomfortable one with neither of them quite willing to break it.  He’s the next one to speak, knowing that he has to say this and knowing that he runs the risk of losing her completely.

“Come with me.”

She blinks.

“I’m sorry?”

He has a wry grin on his face as he repeats his question, rephrasing it slightly and expounding on it to make his meaning clear.

“Travel with me.  You know me, Rose; I’m not one to settle.”

“Travel with you?”  She seems to give the concept some consideration.  “As what?”

“My companion.  You know ... you and me, the TARDIS ...” he holds the piece of TARDIS coral out to her as proof that what he’s saying is true before placing it carefully on the table.  “Same old life.”

“But that’s not —”

“We could start again.”  His voice is quiet, and his face holds a pleading expression that she can barely stand to see.  “I’d like that,” he continues, “you and me.  We could try, at least.”

“Why?”

“Because ... because everything the Doctor is and was ... _I’m_ capable of that, too.”

She can’t bear to look at him, with that expression on his face, speaking those words ...

“I can’t.”  Her voice wobbles as she struggles to retain her composure.

“Please come with me. Rose, _please_.”

“I _can’t_.”  The word sounds suspiciously like a sob.

“Why not?”

His voice is still quiet and gentle and free of any trace of frustration, even though they’ve been through this and similar over and over again since that afternoon on the beach.

She looks at him then, _really_ looks at him, and then looks him straight in the eyes.  She tries again to explain: simple words that cost her a great deal.

“The Doctor is gone, and _you_ look like him.”

She stands there in the sudden silence and watches him close his eyes briefly.  When he opens them again she can see the shimmer of tears there, and realises that in his way he’s hurting just as much.

“But he’s here.”

He walks across to where she’s standing, and reaches a hand out as if to comfort her.  He doesn’t flinch when she turns away from him; it’s almost as if he expects it.

“He’s right here, Rose.  Inside.  Just look in my eyes.”

“All right.  Answer me this, just one question.  That’s all.  If you weren’t here, if you’d never been created ... would he still have left me here?’

She watches him as he looks at her, carefully not saying anything, before he turns and walks out of the room.  She knows she’s hurt him terribly by saying that out loud and a part of her feels incredibly guilty.  But as she slowly walks to the table, picks up the piece of TARDIS coral and holds it tightly to herself as she weeps, the one person she’s thinking of is the one she gave her heart to so many years ago ... who she’ll never see again.


End file.
